


Unsuccessful Finish

by wanderingmoonmen



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: M/M, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, and also this is the first thing I'm posting woo hoo, this was just an emotional output after a bad day, various methods of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 20:04:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8503564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingmoonmen/pseuds/wanderingmoonmen
Summary: Guilt and regret are a lot to handle, but after hurting a loved one after countless times can lead people down a dark path. When it is hurt with Rick Sanchez and Stanford Pines, the outcome can be a bit more extreme.





	

Rick hadn't been sleeping. He hadn’t been eating normally. He wasn’t rattling off as many witty or snarky remarks. He hasn’t been participating in much after he and Ford had a huge blow out. What was it over again? Maybe it was something stupid like an argument over mathematical equations or quantum physics. Maybe it was something more realistic like a discussion of each other’s health and habits. No one remembers what it was exactly, but everyone remembers that it was bad.

 

A bad argument between the two usually only had one person at fault: Rick. It always is. He knows it and so does everyone else.

 

Rick sits on a white toilet seat in the downstairs washroom. The washroom is connected to the downstairs bedroom that he was staying in with Stanford. The man’s snores drift in through the shut bathroom door, signifying that he is sound asleep for now. Rick sets his head is in his hands and rests his elbows on his knees. As he begins to mull through his thoughts, his right leg starts to tremble. After a few minutes, the trembling has turned into anxious bouncing.

 

The thoughts of fault begin to whir and overwhelm through Rick’s mind. He grabs to where his flask would be in his lab coat, but his hand just lands on his cool skin as he is still in his nightclothes.

 

“Damn it…” Rick whispers under his breath, “I can’t risk waking him up…”

 

His way of dulling the mental agony is in the other room, but the pain relief would be brought with the price of waking Ford out of peaceful sleep. Without a second thought, he stands and opens the medicine cabinet. He reaches in and grabs the razor out of the cabinet and he picks it apart clumsily.

 

_Relief. Relief. Just forget._

 

Upon getting it apart, he shakes his right arm out and rests it on the white bathroom counter. He stares at all the other previous scars lining his skin and his heart pounds in his aching chest.

 

He breathes out and presses the blade into his skin. His eye twitches as he feels the sting of the blade against the sensitive skin. He pulls up after the cut become about two inches long and watches as the skin around the wound swells and the blood rises in the thin wound.

 

It soon starts dribble out of the wound. He repeats the action again and again, frustration mounting with each one as it doesn’t satisfy the agony that he faces in his internal turmoil. The cuts get steadily deeper and they sting from being exposed to air. Chills go up his arms and to the base of his hair line as the sensation triggers his brain to try and stop his actions for the sake of survival. Rick presses the instinct down and swallows hard.

 

_Fuck it._

 

Rick swallows and grips the blade tightly in his left hand before pressing the blade into his wrist deeper than before. The pain shoots up his arm and causes him to cringe. The cringe grows as he pulls the sharp blade down his arm. The blood quickly bubbles out of the wound and roll down the side of his quivering arm. When it reaches the end of his arm, it drips to the floor and creates a splatter on the pristine tile and his feet.

 

He repeats this action to his other arm after a few moments of watching the blood stain the floor. As he loses more blood, his head begins to spin and his vision becomes blurred and spotty.

 

Panic begins to set in as he thinks he hears Ford stop snoring. Maybe the bed creaked or a light turned on. He can’t tell as his vision his getting worse as more blood flows out of his wounds.

 

_I can’t be caught like this. Oh, fucking hell. I need to just…_

 

Rick thrusts his bloody arm out to the medicine cabinet and he searches in his hazy vision for Ford's pain medicine. After various injuries after Weirdmaggedon and some adventures on the Stan o War, Rick ended up insisting that Ford get some powerful medication to help his pain. Too much could lead to poisoning or death.

 

He grabs the pill bottle and grips it with shaking hands. Tears blur his vision and his strength is being sapped from the blood continuing to drip out of his wounds. He grips the bottle cap and twists it. He's beginning to sob helplessly.

 

"S-s-s-s-shut up Y-y-you bastard..." He hisses to himself angrily as his fingers slip over the safety cap. I must be quiet or he’ll wake up.

 

After a final desperate try, he gets the lid off and he dumps several pills into his thin, shaking hands.

 

Rick's chest heaves in and out as tears stream down his face and his legs begin to shake. Just end it.

 

Just end it. No more burden. No more hurting. Just let them forget you existed. It'll be better that way.

 

He knocks back his head and chokes the pills down dry.

 

Rick stands quietly with his head cocked back. His Adam’s apple twitches up and down as he gets a bit more choked up. His teary eyes glaze over as his skin turns a more ashen colour. The feeling in his legs begin to fade and his vision is getting even hazier. Rick gives a halfhearted laugh before his legs give out and he falls to the bathroom floor with a thud. His head smacks against the bathtub and a yelp escapes his throat before his vision goes out.

 

From then on, blurry colours fade in and out. His head pounds and he can't feel his arms anymore. His stomach churns and his insides feel like they're eating away slowly and painfully. He has no grasp of how long he has been layering there or how close he is to plunging into eternal darkness.

 

The next time the haze clears he sees the door open. There's a slight sensation of pressure against his leg as the door is thrown over and he sees skin colour, some red and grey among the piercing white. There’s some movement the red and skin colour when the full extent of the figure is in view.

 

"Ri--!”

 

Rick welcomes darkness again after the partial cry. The darkness fades to dull colour as his eyes open again. He feels his skin against a sweater-like fabric. A weak glance towards the fabric shows a red colour.

 

Rick moves his lips a little, but he can't muster the energy to say anything.

 

_Ford please, I'm not worth it... just let me go._

 

He feels Ford misstep and run into a doorframe and the already overbearing guilt begins to drown him. Rick isn’t sure if his face screws up in the pain and guilt that he's hit with in that one moment, but he also doesn’t think he has enough control to do it. He tries to lift his hand to put it to Ford's neck or chest to sense his heartbeat. To his chagrin, he can't move his arm.

 

_You're going to hurt yourself... don't bother with me. Please stop._

 

His vision fades again and he feels no control in his body. He can't feel much of anything except his insides complaining from the overdose of pain medications thrown into the system. His ears thump when others begin to scream. He can't process what they're saying. He's clinging to life still for whatever stupid reason, but he just wants to let—

 

He tastes something terrible in his mouth and a fluid coming up his throat and out of his open mouth. It's repeated so many times. After what seems to be an eternity of this sensation, feeling begins to come back. The pain in his arms, the aching in his stomach, the now rawness of his throat, and the taste of stomach acid in his mouth. His awareness still wavers, but he can tell he’s been taken outside and put into a weirdly smelling car. All he can think of doing is scream.

 

_DON'T SAVE ME. LET ME GO._

 

He feels a firm hand grip him tightly and his nose and face is in a soft sweater. Tears stream down his cheeks. He tries to make a sound, but the rawness of his throat keeps him quiet. After what seems to be a few moments, the car slams to a stop and jostles Rick again. It knocks his foggy head a bit and darkness closes around him.

 

When he wakes, blinding white light greets him. The beeps nearby sound like many before. His arms are sore. A bleary glance shows tubes stuck into his thin limbs.

 

The next noise he picks up on is weeping. He peers over to see his daughter curled up with his grandchildren weeping quietly. She looks distraught. Both Summer and Morty offer comfort. Summer’s cheeks are flushed and her eyes are puffed up. Morty simply looks distraught and worried. Ford sits on the other side with Stan standing behind him with an irritated expression. They look so tired. How long was he out?

 

He opens his eyes and little more to get a better grip on his surroundings. The guests in the room notice and draw closer.

 

"D-d-dad!"

 

"Grandpa!"

 

"R-r-rick!"

 

'Rick..."

 

He feels several hands on him and his chest tightens. Everyone grips him tightly. Beth’s head is on his shoulder and she’s crying. Both Summer and Morty are crying too right beside their mother. Ford holds his hand in both of his own.

 

"Don’t..." Rick starts to stay before his voice cracks, "Don't cry..."

 

His daughter and grandchildren squeeze him tighter. They laugh a little from Rick’s personality even in such a dire situation. Ford clutches his hand a little tighter.

 

Rick sighs softly and closes his eyes again.

 

_I’m not worth crying over._


End file.
